


You, Me, Us

by Fen_Assan



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Love, ME3 Spoilers, Mild Smut, No Shepard without Vakarian, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Romance, Shakarian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: This time Shepard's visit to Tuchanka has turned into an emotional roller coaster: from jealousy to grief to bliss, with a bit of everything in between.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day (or shall we call it romantic stories, fluffy fics, and all the feels day? :) ) to my wonderful readers. I hope you enjoy this story, and if you do - I'll be happy to hear from you.  
> Thank you for reading. <3

  


Shepard cracked her neck to each side and rolled her shoulders while waiting for the new body scanners to let her out of the War Room. The damned things were so slow, she thought she was starting to get an itch every time she had to pass through them. She wanted out of that area, away from Primarch Victus - who had been very grateful for his son’s return but tense and apprehensive about the future alliance with the krogan, or about it even happening in the first place - and Wrex - who remained one of her dearest friends, but whose current suspicion regarding her every talk with the turian Primarch that did not include him made her want to headbutt the krogan to shut him up and get him off her back for a moment. She had accepted the fact that she was again in the middle of sorting someone else’s shit, but she needed a break. 

The plan was to dodge everyone else and slip down a deck into the Main Battery. To do that unnoticed was impossible at this time of the day cycle, so she arranged her face into the mask of urgency and seriousness - the one expression she had been wearing a little too much lately - as she punched the elevator button. The ride was too short to really relax, but at least she had no company - not counting omnipresent EDI - so she leaned against a wall, pressing the back of her head to it, and exhaled slowly and loudly. 

A few stern, hurried nods proved a sufficient defense as no one tried to intercept her on her way to see Garrus. She wanted more of his insight on this new development - it being a huge fucking bomb - but she also looked forward to just seeing him, talking to him, maybe even stealing a kiss. The whole situation was hard on both of them - with Earth and Palaven equally at stake, and their own lives and work devoted solely to saving their both homeworlds, along with many others - but together they managed to find some solace, a small chunk of peace in each other’s arms. 

That unfulfilled expectation of a moment’s respite left Shepard confused enough to blink a few times as the door slid open into the empty Main Battery. It was nothing out of the ordinary, after all Garrus was not permanently glued to his console there - although at times he seemed to be - but she caught herself thinking that the place looked odd without him. She closed the door behind her anyway, and took a few steps further, even knowing perfectly well Garrus was not hiding somewhere inside. She could of course ask where he was over the comms, but decided against it. Instead, she sat on the floor in the corner where she would not be immediately visible had anyone entered, and closed her eyes for a moment. He would likely be back soon, and this was as good a chance to take a breather as any. 

Relaxation, however, eluded her. Although her pulse and breathing evened out, her thoughts went bouncing around her head at double speed - and all the wrong thoughts at that. She remembered that bit of conversation she overheard about a week ago. Back then she had entered Liara’s office to check some new intel with Glyph, and accidentally heard Garrus and Liara chat on the intercom. It had only been a couple of ending remarks of the conversation, but it had had her worried. From what Shepard had picked up, Liara had been trying to convince Garrus to come over to talk, but he had refused, saying that he would be ok. Shepard had tried talking to him later herself, but everything she managed was his admission that the situation was a lot to take in. She understood. What was going on on Palaven, and his family missing was more than enough to throw anyone off balance - even her ever steady Garrus. She wanted to help, and it stung when he waved her off with the explanation that he just needed some time to think things over. 

He seemed to be feeling better lately, his dry humour she loved so much was back as a necessary part of their communication. But a tiny worm of doubt was there too - was he not ready to share some things with her? Or was it her who was pushing him? She groaned loudly and rubbed at her face, feeling supremely annoyed with herself. She had to go do something, just to stop thinking about it. The other topics that occupied her mind were not simpler or happier by any measure, but that was just her job. She brushed the non-existent dust off her fatigues and decided to go check up on Liara while she was nearby anyway. 

The asari’s office only met her with the humming of multiple terminals - not only Liara, but even Glyph were away. This second absence felt like a sneaky punch in the gut. Were Garrus and Liara somewhere else together? Had the asari succeeded where she herself had failed - in convincing Garrus to open up about what was bothering him? Shepard felt a bitter sting of jealousy, even though she knew rationally that she had no reason - and in fact no right to feel it. She trusted Garrus completely. Was she afraid he did not feel the same? The ugly feeling emerged nonetheless, unhelpfully popping images into her head. She flinched and shook her head with a filthy curse. 

Shepard realised the absurdity and humiliation of what she was about to do, but she was unable to stop herself from walking around the crew deck in search of Garrus and Liara - she had somehow already convinced herself in the meantime that the two were definitely to be found together. With the mess hall and the kitchens, as well as the med bay and the starboard observation deck bereft of any of the two, Shepard’s last destination was the port observation lounge.

She could hear Garrus’ flanging voice through the door, but, in the most unlike herself action since she had refrained from strangling the Salarian Dalatrass, she did not touch the pad open. She stood there, closing her eyes, letting out a slow exhale, listening to Liara. 

“So...Archangel.”

“You heard about that, huh?” Shepard’s heart squeezed. Because there they were, just two old friends catching up after a long time apart. But also because the image of him, her Archangel, bleeding in her arms after that damned rocket had nearly stolen him away from her for good, flashed in front of her eyes. And also because even now she felt inexplicably jealous at the two of them sitting there - in an intimate, quiet atmosphere, probably sharing a drink along with their stories. She knew she was being stupid, irrational, and above all - horribly selfish. There was nothing wrong with Garrus enjoying a moment with someone else. She was not supposed to be his whole world. Did she even want to be? 

She pressed herself against the wall, working on steadying her breath before entering. She would only say hello, maybe grab a quick drink, and leave her two close people to keep talking, to have their peace. When she was nearly done half mentally admonishing herself, half trying to restore her cool, not really minding anymore what the two were talking about, she straightened up and shook out her palms. And then froze again at Liara’s next question.

“So… you and Shepard. It’s serious then?” Something was fluttering in Shepard’s chest, and she suddenly became aware that this whole pathetic spectacle must have been witnessed by EDI, but she could not retreat now.

“It is,” Garrus’ undertones softened and became more pronounced, “if she’ll have me,” he added with an audible smirk.

“Come on, Garrus, it’s clear as day Shepard would fight a whole clan of female krogans for you hand-to-hand. And win,” Liara said, drawing a laugh from Garrus. Shepard grinned.

“It’s sort of still a mystery to me as to why,” he smirked, “but it’s true. I’d do the same for her.”

“Oh, I’m afraid you underestimate female krogans, Garrus. Not sure you have much chance against them - Archangel or not. Especially when in numbers.” The two laughed again, and Shepard felt a mixture of bitter happiness and intense guilt at standing there like a thief, listening in to something utterly private. She turned on her heels and walked away immediately, doing her best to be quiet. 

Hours later, with all the necessary preparations to prevent Cerberus from detonating the bomb on Tuchanka made, she was exhausted. They would leave at 0700 the next morning, which left her with the possibility of at least 4 hours of sleep. Before dropping into her bed likely foregoing the shower for now, she headed towards the Main Battery. At this time the crew deck was nearly empty and quiet - only a few technicians were having a late night snack in the mess hall. 

Garrus was still working, likely squeezing another .17 percent out of the Normandy’s weapons accuracy and forgetting about how late it already was. He gave her a quick nod and a smile, continuing to tap over the controls. 

“Shepard. Just a second.” 

She closed the door behind her and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek to the sweep of his carapace. He stopped working right away and carefully turned to envelope her in an embrace, his chin resting briefly on the top of her head. She felt rather than heard the vibration of his undertones which undoubtedly indicated that he was pleased. She looked up at him, cupped his face in her hands and stood on her tiptoes to dot tiny, featherlike kisses along his jaw, his cheek plates, the ridge of his nose, and finally his mouth. 

“How did I deserve all that?” he murmured when they parted, his mandibles flaring slightly under her deft, gentle fingers. 

“I love you,” she said, without looking him in the eyes, her face pressed to his neck. And then, “And I’m sorry.” She looked up.

“Shepard,” he said slowly, moving to take her hands in his. “First of all, I love you too. And second, what the hell are you apologising for?”

“I heard your conversation with Liara today,” she confessed, fighting with the urge to avoid his eyes, and eventually staring right into their blue. “I came looking for you earlier and you weren’t here, and Liara wasn’t in her cabin either, so I went looking and…” she blew out a chestful of air through her mouth. “I was stupid, but I couldn’t help it. Even the thought of you with anyone else… I’m so sorry.” 

“Shepard,” he said in such a hushed - with shock? - voice it was barely a whisper. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying. Are you?” She bit her lip and nodded silently. “You were… jealous?” She nodded again. The plates on his face twitched in utter surprise and his second larynx produced a sound which never reached his mouth. Then he scooped her into his arms again, and ran his fingers through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp. She let out a quivering sigh. When he cupped her face to make her meet his gaze, he looked relaxed, happy, and amused - not a sign of anger. “Shepard,” he started with an already forming grin, “I’m afraid you’ll just have to learn to live with the fact that I’m so irresistible to everyone, but I am only yours. I promise.” He kissed her. 

“Garrus,” she moaned through the kiss, smiling, “how do you put up with me?” 

“Hmm, that’s an interesting question. Some say my self-control is the stuff of legend.” She shook her head, laughing, instead of jabbing him with her elbow as was her habit. “But really it should be me getting jealous - with all the attention you’re getting lately.”

“What?” she rounded her eyes in honest surprise. 

“What with the Primarch’s admiration for you, and Kaidan’s… well… would infatuation be the right word?” 

“Alright,” she sighed, disentangling from him - he made a distraught little sound at the loss of contact, and she immediately wanted to wrap herself back around him. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest. “First off, I know you’re pulling my leg with the Primarch.” 

“Why would I be…” his eyebrow plates rose in question, but she just huffed and shook her head, laughing - she was pretty sure he had already learnt that particular human idiom. 

“As for Kaidan… I feel sorry for him in a way: his feelings towards me seem like such a confused mess. But you know there was never anything between us. You know I was never interested. I never gave him any hope, and...”

“I know, Shepard, I know.” Garrus stepped closer, threw the glove off his right hand and gently caressed her cheek. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment. 

“Besides,” she continued, wanting to make things crystal clear, “even when Kaidan started hitting on me back on Normandy SR1, it was already too late anyway.”

“How so?”

“I’d already met you,” she shrugged but made sure to look him straight in the eyes. He stared at her, uncomprehending. Then gasped. 

“That far back?” She nodded and turned away to hide her face, suddenly feeling vulnerable. They had somehow never talked about this before. Garrus drew close and lifted her chin carefully with a finger. “Shepard. Jane. I’m sorry it took me so long. But I'm right where you need me to be now. And always.” She heaved a breath, which somehow developed into a laugh.

“You know, I sometimes wonder if anyone even knows my actual first name. I’m so used to being Shepard - to the point that I seem to forget it myself.”

“Well, I read your file, remember?” he purred with a cocky grin. She swatted him playfully on his arm. “Hmm, I would suggest a sparring if you feel like getting all physical on me,” he smirked. “I will make sure to remind you of your name during it,” he whispered against her neck, “Jane.” 

“I like how it sounds when you say it,” she whispered back, nuzzling at his neck, pressing her whole body against him. “If we go to my cabin now, we’ll still have a couple of hours of shuteye before the mission.” Instead of replying, he swiped his fingers over the console, shutting it off, and prodded her gently towards the exit. 

***

The memory of that night was of the sheen of sweat on her skin from the mere heat of him, of the way her back arched and her inner walls clenched around his length as her name kept rolling off his tongue and into her ear - as a prayer, a mantra, a curse - entrancing her, leaving her a shuddering mess in his wiry, strong arms. 

That memory kept her going through the next mission, which ended up with them defusing the bomb, and Lieutenant Victus sacrificing himself. That was how Garrus saw it. The way she saw it - she had failed to save Tarquin’s life. And now as another, the final mission on Tuchanka had been completed, the memory of that night only made her break down in tears as she stood in front of the sink in her bathroom, avoiding to look at the mirror. 

If she was honest with herself - and she had learnt to be that - she would admit it was not that memory that made her cry. It was just that that particular memory made her think of Mordin’s advice on interspecies sex back when the relationship between Garrus and herself had been new and full of unknown. And the crazy, full-of-ideas-and-ridiculous-songs Mordin - who had seen and noticed and understood more than many, likely more than most - had decided to help, without even being asked. And now he was dead. He had sacrificed himself - that much was true. Just as it was true that she had not managed to save him. She had helped cure the genophage, she had given the krogan a new hope and a new future, but she had lost a friend - they had all lost Mordin, the very model of a scientist salarian…

She washed her face, splashing ice-cold water over it again and again, until her fingers felt numb. She could not afford to fall apart now. She had allowed herself too much in the aftermath of this mission already. Her heart clenched at the thought of how harshly she had spoken to Garrus on their return to the Normandy. She had brushed him off when he had been only trying to help - and all while under the new weight on his own shoulders: he had received the command of the turian forces that were to stand with humanity against the Reapers. Shepard had no doubts about Garrus’ ability to manage the troops - she simply realised it was a lot of responsibility and a lot of work to take up. But she had been too absorbed in suffering through the cost of curing the genophage at that point to even appreciate his concern, let alone to support him. 

A soft knock on the door broke her chain of thoughts which only brought her further down into the gloom. 

“It’s open,” she raised her voice slightly, remaining behind the closed door in the bathroom. There were soft steps, and the soft clicking or armour she could recognise without seeing through the door - she heard it every time Garrus crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly. His voice sounded nearer to her than she expected, just on the other side of the door. “Is this a bad time?” She looked at her feet for a second, and opened the door to face him.

“No. Not for you, never for you.” He remained where he stood but uncrossed his arms, spreading them in an invitation for a hug she was free to take or leave. She took it, with gratitude. 

“But bad for you,” he stated, not asked, nuzzling at the hair on the top of her head. He did not ask if she was ok either - he already knew the answer. Instead, he asked how bad it was.

“Kinda shitty,” she admitted, her voice muffled against him. 

“Come.” He took her by the hand and directed her into the corner of the couch - the spot where they had learnt long ago the two of them had most space to nestle comfortably together. This time he did not insist on cuddling though, he simply sat next to her, leaving her to lean into him or move into his lap only if she decided to. “Tell me,” he said softly, his hand covering hers. 

“The dead are haunting me,” she scratched her right shoulder with her left hand - it did not really itch, she knew it was just the nerves. “I didn’t sleep much.”

“Nightmares?” She nodded. “Want to talk about them?” 

“Not particularly. I mean… yes. What I mean is, I don’t _want_ to talk about them, but I think I need to. Part of the dream was a recurring one,” she started explaining immediately, before she changed her mind, staring unblinkingly at the floor. “I’m in a forest, it’s all fog and naked trees and black shadows of people, and I keep chasing this kid - a boy I saw die on Earth when the Reapers attacked.” She felt her hands clench into fists, and Garrus’ warm hand land on her back.

“You mean you’ve dreamt this before?” Garrus’ voice sounded worried, instead of angry or hurt that she was only telling him about those dreams now. She nodded.

“Once before. Same dream. But this time there were voices in it too. Ashley’s voice. Miranda’s.” Garrus’ palm was rubbing gentle circles on her back. 

“So you see - and hear - the people who died. The ones you couldn’t save,” he said. It was not a question, but she nodded in confirmation anyway. They were quiet for a few moments. “Mordin?” Garrus asked. She shook her head.

“He was not there,” she said quietly, and felt nearly betrayed - her salarian friend had not wanted to haunt her. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she blinked them away. Garrus pulled her closer, and she rested her head on the side of his keel - the smooth surface of his armour was comfortingly cool. He held her in an embrace.

“I understand how his death is hard to cope with, Jane. But he did die a hero. And he chose to do so himself. He saved the krogans. It was not your fault, you couldn’t have saved him.”

“I know,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I’ll miss him.” She sat up to face Garrus. “You know what he asked me a couple of days ago?” He shook his head. “He asked if you and I have learnt to reduce the chafing.” 

“He did help us out back when we started,” Garrus laughed with her, pulled off his gloves and wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb, the claw blunted. 

“He forwarded me a couple of new recipes for ointments,” she said, her voice shuddering in a spasm of suppressed tears and half spilt laughter. “Said he’d make them once he was done with the genophage cure,” she added in a whisper. 

“He was a good man,” Garrus said, holding her, “crazy, but good. And he died a good death. That counts.”

“It does,” she agreed, and became silent, as if closing in on herself all of a sudden.

“Hey, Jane?”

“That’s what haunts me. Losing. Losing people along the way - even if it’s towards a really really big and worthy goal.” She stared at him for a long minute. “You. Don't you dare die.” Garrus hugged her before answering. 

“You know it might happen, Jane, to both of us. We are soldiers after all. But you are one hell of a reason to try very hard not to die. I’ll give it my absolute best shot.” He lowered his head and she moved hers up to let their foreheads touch in that most intimate, most genuine turian gesture of affection.

“I want to see you get old,” she said finally with a little smile. “With grumpy moods and creaky joints.”

“So you can finally beat me in hand-to-hand combat, huh?” he deadpanned. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length, his sharp blue eyes - the skin around them pale with lack of sleep, exhaustion and worry - boring into her green ones. “I can't tell you how much this means to me,” he said, as if swallowing a lump in his throat. “I didn't hope, didn't really think that far. But, if it means you feel the same, growing old with you… there's nothing I want more.” He looked like he himself had no idea what was happening, but he plunged into it with all his heart. “Jane, will you marry me, when all this hell is over?” She gasped first, clamping her hand over her mouth like the melodramatic heroines did in the vids, not soldiers who had been through hell and back. The next sound she made was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I’d marry you tomorrow, Garrus.” His face lit up with a huge grin.

“So... today's out of the question then?” he drawled. She sobbed and laughed again and instead of swatting him as she would, she straddled him and pulled him in for a kiss. Their tongues met in a celebration that was true and bittersweet and heady. His mandibles flicked along her jaw, his hands ran the length of her back, one finally palming her ass as the other rested on the back of her neck, a blunted claw scraping gently at that sensitive spot, making her squirm in his lap. Her hands went up to tug at his crest and then around his neck, scratching with her fingers at just the right pressure to make his undertones hum and vibrate in her throat. When they parted, both were panting. And beaming at each other. 

“Well then I’ll… do some research…” he started the sentence she had heard once before with a grin, not an ounce of awkwardness in his voice this time - only confidence. Shepard liked him sassy. She liked - and loved - all of him. To show him, she interrupted him with another kiss. 

“... and figure out how we can do that?” she finished the sentence for him, and they shared a comfortable, intimate laugh. She nuzzled at his cheek plate and whispered, “Now this sounds wonderful.”


End file.
